What sort of fresh hell is this?
I know that's what some of you are thinking.
But you read yesterday's post, right?
Are my stars lined up or what?!
So. Yesterday I published my post and Della said let's go swim in the lake. I said, 'Yes, let's.' and we hopped on our bikes and rode down the hill to the lake.
On the way down, there were no dead squirrels in the road. (This is a very important detail.)
We dove in and swam and frolicked in the cool green water and I taught Della the 'dead man's float' for when our yacht sinks and we need to survive for days on end in shark infested seas. I'm a good momma that way.
This all took about an hour.
We hopped on our bikes and rode back up the hill towards home.
And Jesus, Mary and Joseph there he was.
In the glamorous world of rogue taxidermy this is what's known as a fresh kill. It's exactly what you want. He was still soft and lovely and pliable. No time for bacteria to join the party. Della was quick to point out that there were no wounds or blood. Blunt trauma will go on the autopsy report.
Della also wanted to eat him. I'm serious as a heart attack. She was stoked to have found dinner. Screw pizza, we've got a dead rodent. That's my girl.
'No dear, I'm going to stuff him.' I said.
She jumped right on board with that idea.
We had nothing to carry this lovely fellow in or with. No backpack or towel...not nothing.
Della is so awesome. 'I'll run down this driveway and ask them for a wal-mart bag.' she volunteered.
What I wanted to say was that they would think we were insane, but why plant that seed, in her sweet and daring little soul. Instead we set him gently in the water bottle frame, cinched him in with a bikini top and peddled home very carefully.
Max said, 'Please, tell me you're not really going to do that.'
Lewis said, 'Can I play with him when you're done.'
Yes I am and Yes you can.
Middle school makes you jaded.